Picture Perfect
by dumm-luk-13
Summary: Of the five friends, he was the least likely to carry a picture in his wallet. He did, however, have just one picture.
1. Barney

Of the five friends, he was the least likely to carry a picture in his wallet. He was the continuously unattached, shallow one. The flippant, decadent bachelor. There was no room in his designer leather wallet for traces of memories.

Ted had pictures of girlfriends, family members, friends, and pets long gone. Both Lily and Marshall had their wallets packed with pictures of each other and their friends. Even Robin had pictures of her dogs and a picture strip of when the five of them squished into a photo booth. He wasn't in the last one however, for the barista at Starbucks had been hot and had the skill to handle other hot things, if you catch my drift.

He did, however, have just one picture. It was squished far down in the leather folds, all crinkled and worn. The image though was still crystal clear. There he was, in one of his favorite Armani suits, with a drink in his hand, the other hand in his pocket, blond hair carefully styled, a smirk on his lips and one eyebrow raised in a 'come hither' fashion to Robin, who was taking the picture. And there was Ted. It was typical Ted in baggy jeans, an old band tee, an open button down shirt, hair all tousled and messy with a beer in his hand. And his other arm slung casually about Barney's shoulders.

Ted was smiling big and wide at Marshall, who was chugging a beer in the far corner of the apartment and being cheered on by Lily. That night, as Robin and Barney turned for the door to go home, Ted had seen them out. He gave Robin a hug and made one of his usual cheesy comments. Then he'd turned to Barney. "Night, Barney," he smirked. Then, without warning, his arms were tight around Barney. And he hadn't found any woman yet whose embrace could compare to what he had felt.

When Robin printed off the picture from that night, Barney had grabbed it off the table and slipped it into his wallet when no one was looking. And on nights like tonight, when the latest young, hot thing had left or was being left, he would pull it out. Whether he was sitting in his room all alone or heading out the door as fast as his legs could carry him.

Of the five friends, he was the least likely to carry a picture in his wallet. He did, however, have just one picture.


	2. Ted

He was the sentimental one. The one who wanted the wife, the kids, the two story house with the picket fence and a dog sprawled lazily on the front porch. Sunday morning pancake breakfasts and date nights. There were about fifteen pictures in his wallet. Him and Robin, him and Marshall, his mom, a pet dog he'd had when he was younger… All of them tucked in neatly with credit cards and coffee punch cards. All except for one. There was one picture he kept in a special place. Right in the billfold, so he saw it every time he opened his wallet.

It was a picture of a typical Friday night. In their typical McLarens booth. Barney had been trying to convince him once again that there was ONE THING he had to do. Just this one thing, and he could go home a lucky man. "Dammit, Ted! Why don't you ever suit up?" Barney had turned around in the booth, putting the arm that wasn't holding his tumbler on the back of the seat. Barney leaned in close, his cologne hitting his nostrils full blast. "It's about image, Ted! Devilish good lucks, wit, charm and charisma only get you so far! And then when we turn our attention away from me and look at you, the choice is clear! In order to man up, you need to suit up!"

And that's when Lily had called their names and told them to smile. He was smiling, more from laughing at Barney than anything. Sitting slightly sideways in the booth, holding a bottle of beer and laughing at Lily. Then there was Barney… Also sitting sideways, his blond hair sticking up slightly from running his fingers through it in frustration. His tumbler in his hands, other arm slung along the back of the booth, suit unwrinkled, that sarcastic smirk on his lips, and an eyebrow raised in his direction as if to say that he had won this round but Barney would retaliate.

It sat there in his billfold, wrinkled and worn. The image was still crystal clear though. And so was the memory. As they had been leaving the bar to go their separate ways, Barney had flung an arm casually about his shoulders and leaned in until he could feel Barney's warm breath, which smelled of bourbon, on his ear and neck. And even for all its warmth, he couldn't hold back a shiver. "Next time, Ted… Suit up!" And then Barney's hand had reached up and playfully tousled his hair.

He was the sentimental one. There were about fifteen pictures in his wallet. All of them tucked in neatly with credit cards and coffee punch cards. All except for one.


End file.
